


Late nights and slimy hugs

by BepisBoi69



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Human/Monster Romance, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Maybe slow burn? I have no idea if I'm even gonna continue this, Pokephilia, Slimy hugs, Slow Burn, The author does not regret their choices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:41:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisBoi69/pseuds/BepisBoi69
Summary: This is my first fic, so please excuse my odd/uncomfortable writing style, I'm not great at this. I noticed a lack of content going over what would happen to someone who had to contemplate the morality of relations with a pokemon, so I wrote some at like 3 am, and then cleaned it up and posted it here.
Relationships: Numelgon | Goodra/Original Male Character(s), Numelgon | Goodra/Original Pokemon Trainer(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Late nights and slimy hugs

**Author's Note:**

> George, our main character, is camping far out from civilization, tracking a rumor of a rare, endangered pokemon deep into the cross timbers. He’s days from the nearest hospital, and more than a week away from the nearest airport. He’s set up camp for the day near a small, fast-flowing river and is going about his chores when his goodra begins to act a little strange.

George could feel a cool, viscous slime slowly dripping down his chest, hitting in large, thick drops. He looked up, and made eye contact with an expectant goodra, arms already stretched out for a hug. Before he could splutter out a "no", he was wrapped up in a hug, his huge pokemon lifting him all the way off the ground in it's exuberance. At this point, his clothes were soaked through with the goodra's sticky slime, sticking and draping like he had just clambered out of a pool of nearly clear glue.  "Damnit Monty, you know these are my nice clothes!" George cursed, gently pushing his giant goodra off of him. Even for his species, Monty was huge, standing just a little over seven feet tall. Squeezing out what slime he could, George strolled towards his tent, stripping his slime-coated shirt off along the way. He peeled off his jeans, struggling with the slime sticking the denim to his legs. Once he had stipped down to just a pair of boxers, he strolled down to the river.   
  


  
He waded a few feet in before splashing down, letting the water flow over him. Gently rubbing the slime off his skin, he pondered. This wasn’t uncommon, but Monty was usually at least a little bit more reserved. Something was up. He finished washing off in the river, rubbing the last of the slime out of his hair, before standing and stretching. Strolling back into his campsite, he meandered over to a line strung between two trees, hung with drying laundry. Grabbing a towel off his makeshift laundry line, he dried himself off before tossing the towel back over the line. Normally he would be recording right now, but today was a day off. His latest upload, about an hour of carefully cut and edited footage of wild pokemon in Santalune Forest, was doing well online and he desperately needed a break. George walked over to his tent, opening the flap and ducking inside to grab something. Popping back out with a belt, he pulled off two miniaturized pokeballs, dropping the belt to hold one in each hand. With a slight squeeze, George pressed the button on each of the two pokeballs. As they expanded, he tossed them both into the air, freeing the other two members of his team. “There ya go, guys.” Zephyr, George's dragonite, burst out of his ball, soaring upwards as fast as he could without even a glance back. With a heavy thud, Nike, George’s shiny golisopod, landed in front of him. The heavyset insect glanced around, chittered slightly, and then began to lumber down to the river, intent on swimming. With his pokemon released, George figured he should get dressed. Ducking down into his tent, he opened his pack, and pulled out one of his last outfits. He really needed to do his laundry, but removing slime was slow, repetitive work, and he wasn’t really in the mood right now, anyways. He pulled on a pair of patched, well worn jeans, and a t-shirt befitting the warmer climate. He stretched, before crouching back through the entrance to his tent and out into the open clearing of his campsite.  
  
  
“Hey Monty? Buddy? Where are you?” George didn’t see the goodra anywhere around camp, and that worried him. Monty wasn’t the best with direction, and him getting lost in these woods was a real risk. Hearing a series of large, thumping footfalls behind him, he whirled, looking deeper into the forest, away from the river. “Monty? Was that you?” As he finished the sentence, the large goodra came barreling out of the forest, heading directly towards George. “Monty! Stop! I just changed!” The goodra paid no heed, charging directly at his trainer. With a smooth motion the pokemon grabbed George without slowing down, now sprinting to the river as fast as he could. Stunned, George did little more than slump back into his pokemon’s arms, trusting his starter’s decision. As they barreled along, George heard an ear-splitting screech, coming from the direction that Monty had come from. “This isn’t gonna be pretty” he muttered to himself, before drawing in a deep breath. “ZEPHYR!” the man screamed, hoping to catch his dragonite’s attention before it was too late.   
  


  
It appeared he had found his target, but why was it here? It should have been several days further into the forest, where there was a minimum of human interference. What had driven it out here? These thoughts raced through George’s head as his goodra dived into the river, the closest body of water. Even a picture of his target would be worth hundreds, maybe thousands, but that wasn’t why he was here. With a forceful splash, Monty landed in the water, his trainer bundled in his arms. George pulled above the water, gasping for air. He scrambled out of the river, running for his camera. Braviary were endangered here, and these rough, bramble-tied forests were their last truly wild refuge on this continent. Hoisting his camera, he turned and sprinted back towards the river, now fully aware of the danger he was in. That braviary wouldn't give eating him a second thought, and he needed to be by his pokemon. Diving the last several feet, he landed in the river, crashing against his goodra to soften the blow. George aligned his camera with the forest, peering into the brambles. He pressed the record button, before firmly setting it on the bank and standing up. He looked up, searching for Zephyr. The dragonite was the only pokemon that could stand a chance against the impending threat if it decided to come from above, being the only party member capable of flight. Spotting a little golden dot high above, George sighed in relief. “Where is it?” He yelled up to the descending dragonite, hoping that the pokemon would hear him in time. “Nike, I need you here!” George shouted downriver, panic creeping into his voice. They were in this Braviary’s territory, and survival was their biggest worry at the moment. In a rush of water and momentum, Nike, George’s golisopod, came surging upriver to meet him. With a rush of air and a thunderous impact, Zephyr landed in front of the three, completing the team. With the trio surrounding him, George grabbed his camera and began to step away from the river, searching for a better angle. Nike chittered behind him, clicking her claws together to punctuate a short burst of cries. “Thirty? Bird?” George’s face tightened with the realisation of what Nike’s cries meant. He braced, preparing his camera and pressing record. “Nike! On point! Zephyr! Take her right shoulder, and brace! Monty! Take the left, get ready to stun it!” George commanded, readying his team for the impact. It was likely that the Braviary would open with Brave Bird, a powerful move that left it vulnerable afterwards. Nike was the only pokemon on his team with the defense, armor, and moveset to deal with the impact. As the three pokemon surged to their positions, he issued another string of commands, slightly calmer with his team assembled. “Nike! You know what to do! Monty, ready a Bubble Blast! We’re gonna need to stun it as long as we can, so I can get it in a ball!”   
  
  
The two pokemon did so, Nike slamming up a protect. Meanwhile, Monty began to charge energy, the slime around his mouth beginning to foam. With an ear-splitting screech, the Braviary came hurtling out of the forest, cloaked in a shining blue light. With no time to turn or avoid it, the massive bird slammed directly into Nike’s Protect, the energy reflecting out and away from the Golisopod. As soon as the Braviary began to bounce away, Monty released his attack, a fast stream of large, glowing bubbles. As the bubble passed the still-recovering braviary, they began to burst, releasing claps of sound and light accompanied by small blasts of energy. George, seeing that it was stunned, pulled a ball from his belt with one hand, and hoisted his camera with the other. Jogging around the small group, he pointed the camera at the Braviary, before tossing an Ultra Ball™ at the stunned bird. The ball shook, once, twice, three times, before bouncing up once and chiming. He picked up the ball, tossing it up once before shrinking it and sticking it back onto the magnets on his belt.    
  
  
Still shaken from the sudden attack, he flopped down, cushioning his camera from the fall. “Good job, guys. Let’s pack it up for the night, eh?” George smiled at his pokemon, glad to be alive and well. Pressing the record button again, George stopped the camera, checking that the footage was all recorded. He slowly got back up, shaking his head to try and clear the last of the adrenaline from his system. After the rush wore off, George hoisted his camera, and slowly walked back to his campsite. Sinking down into a folding chair, he began to bask in what sunlight was left, still somewhat rattled. This wasn’t what he had set out to do, but it may have taken a turn for the better. As the sun sank below the horizon, George drifted slowly to sleep, not bothering to go back to his tent. Why would he, after all? The region was fairly safe, now that Braviary was no longer a threat. As the evening dragged on, his pokemon joined him, sleeping around the gently crackling fire.   



End file.
